


Liminal Spaces

by daydreamichael



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: (just the slightest bit for Michael), Fluff, M/M, Mental Instability, Muke - Freeform, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 04:52:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7604185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamichael/pseuds/daydreamichael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The liminal spaces in time allow Michael to touch on a side he'd rather ignore, a side he's not sure if he's ready to accept.</p><p>(Pretty much just a fluffy Muke one-shot; probably best if you listen to Halsey's 'Drive' while you're reading!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liminal Spaces

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of updating my fic I kinda wrote a one-shot. Oh well, hope y'all still enjoy it. :)

They’d been traveling on the tour bus for well over three hours; as far as Michael knew the other boys were asleep, each tucked away in their own bunk with the curtain drawn. For the past couple hours he tried to find some way to fall asleep but, like many other nights before, it never came to him.

The clock read 2:18AM, and Michael internally groaned. He would have externally groaned but his bandmates probably would’ve woken up, and freshly-woken bandmates are not usually the happiest. Especially at this hour.

But Michael could not lie still. His foot twitched constantly, he tossed and turned every other minute and tapped his fingers against the pillow. He knew that he’d never get to sleep if he continued to be so restless, so he cautiously climbed out of his bunk - thanking god they weren’t stacked one on top of the other - and made his way to the small living room area of the trailer.

Often times he’d come out here just to watch the surroundings pass by; it made him feel somewhat calm, but it also beckoned parts of his mind that should never be touched. He picked up some headphones lying on a small table and plugged them into his phone, deciding that there’s only one song that fits perfectly in the moment.

The sound of a car’s seatbelt signal rang through his ears, and immediately flowed into the eerie, watery beat of one of his favorite songs by Halsey. He drank in the ambiance the sounds created, trying his best to ignore the lyrics. The sound is so pleasing to listen to, especially while driving at night, but the lyrics tap into _that_ part of his brain far too often.

Why Michael decides to torture himself - he doesn’t know. What he does know is that every time he listens to Drive, he gets uncannily calm; everything slows, but accelerates. Time halts, but flies by unknowingly. A few minutes silence is an hour passed. And when he’s just about to dabble into the ideas he dares not overthink, the sun arises and erases the moment.

Except this night is different. Michael is tired, on the verge of exhaustion, but has never been so wide awake. The edges of his mind became a vortex, gravitating all thought towards the idea he’s avoided for many sleepless nights. Halsey’s lyrics, which he usually tries so desperately to avoid, echo through his head.

‘My neck, the feeling of your soft lips.’ _What would that feel like?_

 _No._ Michael sternly thought. _I can’t. Not only is it not right, but it’s unattainable. You’ve got to stop this._

‘All we do is drive, all we do is think about the feelings that we hide.’ _There’s no feelings, there’s no hiding._

 _Lies._ A voice hisses from the corner of his head. _Denying is hiding._

‘All we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign. Sick and full of pride.’ _I am sick, I am full of pride, but I relinquish the hope of there ever being any sign._  
  
“All we do is drive.” Michael mumbled the next line, soft but with a jaggedness to the words. As if he’s taking a stab at himself by stating them.

“You’re right about that.” A quiet voice sighed from the darkness. “What’re you doing out here?”

It’s Luke.

“Listening to music.” Michael replied. “Can’t sleep.”

“You okay? You’ve been getting less and less sleep since the tour started.” Luke inquired, pouring himself a glass of water from the tap.

“Yeah, just, too tired to sleep?” His reason was utter bullshit but Luke nodded, seeming to play along. He took a seat next to Michael and took over one of the earbuds.

Never before had Michael felt so strange next to Luke; this song was incredibly personal to him, but what did it mean to Luke? Was he feeling as flushed as Michael? As exposed, as tense, as… scared?

Of what? He initially thought then - oh. _Oh._

“You should get back to sleep.” Michael muttered, his voice and body tense.

“Do you want me to leave?” Luke mentioned after a few moments of silence.

 _Yes!_ Michael thought, but it was too late for his cautious mindset to speak for him. It was far too late into the night, and they’d finally hit that ethereal state; they’ve hit that state of mind that believes that anything done without reason, without rationality, within the early stages of the morning ceases to exist when the sun arises.

The liminal space that is from one to four in the morning has engulfed his mind.

By this time the song had already run through once more, and Michael’s empty ears finally registered the lyrics that were being fed to him in the most hypnotizing way. 'It’s so simple but we can’t stay, overanalyze again -'

“Would it really kill you if we kissed?”

Michael never meant to speak; he never meant to say the lyrics aloud and he sure as hell did not expect Luke to look at him like _that_. Of all expressions Luke could have pulled, he looked relieved. Michael wanted to question him, ask Luke why he looked relieved, generally cover up his own babbling mistake when he was interrupted.

Luke was kissing him.

 _Luke_ was _kissing_ him.

Immediately Michael kissed back, overcome with an immense urge to savor the moment. There were so many questions, so many answers he wanted not only from Luke but from himself - he couldn’t have the attention span to bother. Not with Luke’s lips trailing down his neck, his hands exploring Michael’s body differently than they’d touched him before.

The electric current of the song flowed through them both, trapping the two in an eternal moment of something that could only be described as a neon aesthetic. They were glowing, two boys with an otherworldly complexion that smelled of bubblegum and tasted of over-sweetened iced coffee; illuminated in watery moonlight, they submerged themselves in the moment.

Sooner or later, one of them had to come up for air. That person was Michael. Opening his eyes, he rested his forehead on Luke’s and gazed into his eyes. However, when Luke looked back his tranquil expression became a frown. It threw Michael off, causing his mind to go into a state of panic.

“What are you so scared of?” Luke whispered, pulling Michael in close. “I want the same things you desire.”

What _was_ he afraid of? In reality he didn’t have anything to truly fear. His largest problem was with rejection, which he can nullify considering the night’s recent events. Everything else is minimal except - and then it hit him.

“People talk. Everything will be found out eventually.” Michael winced as he anticipated not only the press’ and fan’s reactions, but Ashton’s and Calum’s as well.

“Forget them all.” Luke whispered soothingly. “We are here. This is us. This is our moment.”

Luke left butterfly kisses along Michael’s collarbone, making his way up his neck and to his ear. “Let go.”

And Michael did. For the next couple hours he forgot about it all. Forgot about his worries, his purpose, his duties. Until the sun came up, and the liminal spaces of the early morning disappeared.


End file.
